


Acclimation and Small Alliances

by Lairenuriel



Category: Angbang - Fandom, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, a wee bit o vampirism, digital manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lairenuriel/pseuds/Lairenuriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mairon, newly defected, acclimates to a new life.  Establishing his place, he finds that while some of Utumno's denizens resent their Master's shift in Favor, others are swift to recognize possible opportunities.  As Melkor procrastinates over fulfilling one particular promise, Mairon occupies himself and forges alliances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One - Expediency

February 14, 2016

Utumno (Udûn)

The Last Years of the Lamps

         

          Mairon relaxed into his hot bath, trailing idle fingers through the glistening slick floating on the water’s steaming surface.  He’d squeezed scented oil from the long length of his wet hair, letting heavy tresses drip over the edge of the tremendous copper tub.  After scrubbing metallic flakes and stale forge sweat from golden skin, he sought to clear his mind of the project at which he’d been struggling.  Just as he drifted, now that sore muscles eased and thought stilled, he was jerked from the pleasant haze of rosemary and lavender oil by a shrill squeal close to his ear.  Amber eye flew open and his head turned to recognize a familiar snout just inches from his face.

          “ What?” he asked.

          Large black eyes wide with panic, she squealed again and thrust a tiny ball of wadded parchment at him.  Her whiskers worked frantically as she rolled it across the length of his bath side table.  Mairon blinked once, stupidly, at the small Umaiar before he realized that this was, indeed, the pre-arranged signal.  He’d almost been asleep.

          Mairon erupted from the tub in a fountain of hot, scented water.  “  No, oh no!”  As he all but fell onto the thick rug. “ What’s he after?  Did he say?” He demanded of the agitated little creature.  She stood between a pitcher of spiced wine and his empty goblet, pulling at her whiskers.  It was a fruitless question, for she did not speak - no matter which fana she wore.

          “ Oh, Rat, oh no!” under his breath. He grabbed for a cloth to dash off the water running in great rivulets down his long legs.  The tiny Umaiar took her parchment ball in both tiny paws and shook it at him in a positive panic.  “I know, I know, you’ve done well, Rat!  Very well!”  He stumbled from the washroom, leaving a wet, oily trail in his wake as he sped to the vast bedchamber.  Behind him, Rat launched herself from the table.  She changed into humanoid form so two bare feet, rather than four clawed paws, squished in the sodden carpet.  Grabbing up her skirt, she carefully slid through the puddles to peer into the vast Master bedroom.  Wide black eyes watched Mairon fumble with a linen kilt.  She darted forward and pulled it into place.  Deft fingers settled it around his hips and pulled the ties tight.  When he reached for a tunic, she chittered at him as if still in her rodent form.

          “ What - no time?  When did he leave the Throne room?”

          Rat actually squealed at him in frustrated response.  One small hand wagged towards the heavy door leading to the corridor.  Mairon moaned under his breath and lunged for the latch. 

          He said over his shoulder, “ You come North when I go, I swear,” to his silent seamstress and dresser as he tore into the hallway and headed off at a dead run.  The much smaller Umaiar drew a deep breath, sagging wearily, before she cast baleful eyes at the mess.  She began to sop up the water as the sound of retreating bare feet echoed away down the long tunnel.

          Accidentally dislodging a curtain from one of the bedside shelves, she looked at the iron ore samples the Master had hidden there.  He’d spotted her tiny form retreating into the corner.  Laying one finger across his lips, Melkor’s black eyes had flashed in scarlet warning.  Rat might inhabit a tiny form, but her wits were never small.  She pulled the curtain firmly back into place.  Standing, she padded into the bathroom to restore order.

 

          “ **You think you’re so clever,”** Bass rumble the quietest he could manage, Kosomot leaned down to glare into the Herald’s handsome, smug features.  Langon sneered in response.

          “ I’ll never call him ‘Lord-Lieutenant,’ or ‘Lord anything,’ - you flame topped fool!”  The Herald’s dark blue eyes flashed with fury.  “  And you’d do well to follow your Lord’s lead – Lungorthin…”  The furious argument stilled:  their attention drawn by slap of bare feet against stone.  It echoed in the tunnel leading to only one place.  Both heads, the Balrog’s massive horn-topped and the Herald’s sleek black  one, turned to see their newest addition bolt from the corridor that led to the Master’s private chambers.   If rumor was to be believed, the very chambers in which Aule’s former forge master had been installed after his dramatic arrival last month.

          Mairon flung out a hand, grabbing the edge of the arched entry, to swing himself into alignment with a different tunnel.  He kept running, oblivious to the Balrog, and the Herald who watched from a distance.  Kosomot hissed a puff of hot steam into Langon’s triumphant face, causing the Herald to snarl and jerk violently back.

          “ **You’ll** **swallow your own pike, if you know what good for you,** ” Kosomot advised.

          Mairon struggled for breath, and let off faint steam, by the time he burst into the large chamber off the southwest tunnel.  He exclaimed, “ My L…lor…” then trailed into silence.  The chamber was…still.  Every file box remained in its proper place.   The tall pigeon-holed map cases displayed their rolled vellum contents in perfect order.  A bent figure came forward, a quizzical light in four green eyes set in a broad, flat face.

          “ M’lord?” the other Maia asked.

          “ Wh…where is the Master?” Mairon looked around in confusion.

          “ In…the…throne….room?” the key-keeper responded uncertainly.

          “ No.”  Mairon responded, now pausing to catch his breath.  He hadn’t expected the iron throne to be occupied, but his eyes had traveled over it in a habit already routine whenever he entered the vast hall.

          “ Then I know not, m’lord.”

          Just as Mairon opened his mouth to speak, a familiar pulse of energy swept in from the torch-lit tunnel.  Melkor’s snarl came at some distance, but still quite audible, “ You await _my_ pleasure, hie away – or I’ll rip off your face and shove it up your nethers!”

          The key-keeper swore under his breath and disappeared into the depths of file boxes and map cabinets.  Mairon blinked and swept around in time to see a vaguely familiar Maia fly passed the open doorway.  A moment later he realized it had been the new foundry’s metallurgist fleeing the Master at a dead run.

          Since his arrival, he’d seen Melkor’s rage direct itself at one or two unfortunates who’d displeased him, and had only begun to understand the full extent of its application.  But he already knew that he would go to extreme lengths to keep its violent, and pitiless, force from turning upon him.  So, when Melkor appeared in the open arch, his eyes reflecting scarlet displeasure, he found Mairon poised amid the file boxes, looking demurely down at an unrolled parchment.

          “ Ah, my Lord,” the Maia looked up.  His head tilted to one side and he smiled briefly before his amber glance returned to the page.  Rolling it back into a tube, Mairon leaned forward.  He took great care to extend his whole body as he slid the document back into its recessed slot, “ You require something?  How may I assist you?”

          “ Mairon,” Melkor paused, a frown pulling his black brows together sharply,  “ Are you naked?”

          “ Certainly not, my Lord!”  Mairon ran slow fingers down the short kilt, deliberately emphasizing the long length of thigh below it.  “ I was just finishing a bath when it occurred to me the problem with my latest casting might result from impurities in the ore I requisitioned from General Supply.”  Melkor wouldn’t know he’d held the guard rotations for the front gate.  “ I came to check the numbers.”

          “ Ah…” Melkor’s frown lessened, but only a fraction. 

          “ I’m having a dreadful time,” Mairon lamented, looking up at the Vala from under copper brows, “ But I will triumph, my Lord, never doubt it.”  With a warm, confident smile.  “ Now,  surely you were seeking something, Master, please permit me the pleasure of assisting you…”

          “ I’ve come for a map,” Melkor rumbled, his obsidian eyes lingering on the lean length of Mairon’s legs.  “ And I’ve told you to draw from my personal reserves,” As he prowled, with delightful grace for a being of his powerful breadth and width, into the chamber.  The Vala halted a hair’s breadth from Mairon, inhaling hints of rosemary and lavender from the Maia’s loose mane.  The heat of his flight had dried its long length and it shimmered down his back in a bright copper wave.  Melkor reached out and lifted a stray lock on two fingers before tucking it behind Mairon’s upswept ear.  Melkor inhaled again, this time leaning down until his nose almost brushed Mairon’s temple.

          “ Which map, Master?”  Mairon purred softly.  “ Let me save you a long hunt…”  Melkor gave a low sound of approval deep in his chest and murmured which map he desired into Mairon’s ear.  When the Maia stretched up to the correct pigeonhole, Melkor ran cool fingertips up the length one of straining thigh.  Mairon’s husky, intimate, “ Here, Master,” was unfeigned.  He came down from his toes into Melkor’s whole palm enclosing one bottom cheek.   “ My Lord,” Mairon breathed out as he let the top of scrolled vellum rest against Melkor’s chest.

          The Master took the map in his free hand before laying it aside on one of the file boxes.  With his other, he messaged the muscular curve of Mairon’s ass.

          “ Next time send your Rat,” Melkor scolded coolly,  “ Or any other servant.  You need only call, my ember.  They’ve been told to treat your orders as my own.  Don’t emerge in such dishevel - remember you are _my_ Lord Lieutenant now.”

          Mairon suppressed a shudder at the hint of possessive displeasure.  When he looked up to Melkor, his amber eyes nearly glowed.  Mairon leaned back into the wide palm cupping his bottom.  Heated arousal began to coil up through his lower belly.   He reached up to trail his fingertips lightly against the strong curve of Melkor’s hewn jaw line.  “ Forgive my enthusiasm, Master,”

          “ Have a care, precious, I shouldn’t like to make one of your siblings into an object lesson,” Melkor growled quietly, “ For thinking your attention unfixed.”  His palm shifted and he scooped Mairon up onto the very tips of straining toes.  The Maia clutched both hands to broad shoulders, tangling his long fingers in Melkor’s black silk tunic.

          “ I sincerely beg your pardon, Master,” Mairon whispered,  leaning in to rest his chest against the Master’s and direct his hot breath into Melkor’s ear.  “ And I will be mindful, I assure you.  I’ve been trying to produce tiger’s head hooks five hundred at a time,”  He explained, “ And I shan’t waste our store of good ore, from your own reserves.  Once the new foundry is productive, I shall have all the iron ore I need.”  Mairon assured.

          He lifted one hand, letting his fingers delicately trace the long tendons of the Vala’s cool, marble gray throat.  Dipping the tip of his index figure into the hollow at the base of the strong column in a lingering caress, Mairon felt Melkor’s chest suddenly expand beneath him.  Painful arousal slammed through the Maia, drawing a short, sharp gasp past his lips as a convulsion twitched through his whole body.  His forehead fell forward and he muffled his next gasp against Melkor’s collarbone.

          “ Little one,” The Vala breathed out, tipping his face down to nestle his lips into Mairon’s scented hair.  He enclosed Mairon’s bottom in both hands now, lifting the smaller Ainu completely off the volcanic stone floor.

          Mairon wrapped his legs around Melkor’s lean waist, automatically locking his ankles tight around rock-hard muscle.  When the Maia dragged his head up, his tawny eyes were lit with red and blue flecks of compulsive ardor.  Melkor’s face hovered above, and Mairon drove his lips up against his Master’s with a muffled, imploring whimper.  “ My Lord,” Mairon clutched one arm over Melkor’s shoulder.  He licked at Melkor’s lips repeatedly with light, coaxing strokes.

          The Vala gave a rumbling chuckle, one hand sliding up the length of Mairon’s naked spine to wind sinewy fingers in thick red tresses.  Tugging Mairon’s head back, Melkor studied flushed cheeks and the pattern of flaxen freckles spattered beneath building color.

          “ Yours,” Mairon mouthed silently, eliciting  another dark chuckle from the Vala’s deep chest.

          “ Yes,” Melkor lips pulled back, showing sharp white teeth, in a feral, satisfied smile.  His long fingers loosened in copper hair and dragged around to cup Mairon’s jaw and cheek, skimming the tip of his cold thumb over the Maia’s lower lip.  Mairon enclosed it, suckling and scraping his teeth over the sensitive pad as his eyes fluttered shut.

          Melkor turned and strode from the File Office without a last glance at the rolled vellum map he’d come to collect.  As the Master departed, the key-keeper emerged from a back alcove with four wide green eyes.  Unfolding a telescoping spine to return the map to its proper slot, the Umaiar muttered, “ Brave, or foolish…or both.”  Under its breath.

 

          In the throne room, Kosomot still stood guard by the enormous doors, his black axe resting on one massive shoulder.  Langon had retreated to his personal domain – the Herald’s cubby just big enough to hold a small table, a stool, and a corner in which to lean his ornate, double adunc tipped pike.  But at the familiar rhythm of their Master’s metal-tipped boots, he abandoned his bottle – from which he’d been drinking directly – and appeared in the open doorway.  Both watched in silent amazement as Melkor strode purposefully from the southwest tunnel.  The beat of his heels sang against the obsidian floor.

          Langon’s dark blue eyes widened.  It was all he could do to keep a furious grimace off his face as he watched Melkor carry that ginger headed bitch – nearly naked and locked around his Divine self …actually wrapped around their Lord like a limpet… _sucking_ _his thumb_   –  straight for the wide arch which led only one place.  As Melkor’s back disappeared down the dark tunnel, the Balrog by the door turned triumphant yellow eyes towards the Herald.

          “ **Swallow that pike** ,” Kosomot whispered as quietly as his booming, heat-driven voice would allow.  Langon bared his teeth and turned to snatch up the bottle of whiskey, taking a long, burning draw.  The Balrog’s low chuckle rumbled through the throne room’s vast, obsidian depths.


	2. Chapter Two - Ways and Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience is easy when there are obvious compensations.

        Rat had settled herself in a back chamber, sewing box open, and a green silk tunic spread across her lap. Her stool sat beside one of the four large trunks that occupied the room. All stood with their lids raised and were nearly full. One needle in her mouth, one in motion, she hummed silently as she sewed the fine fabric with an even finer thread.

        Her black eyes moved to the sewing box – a spool of real gold thread waited to become decorative embroidery around collar and cuffs. Various patterns flittered through her mind as she reached out to test the flexibility of the metallic thread again. Obviously the Master’s work, it felt as fine as the silk in her needle and would bend beautifully into any intricate design she wished. Mind turning over how to turn it into tongues of flame, she jerked up as she heard the door slam against the wall in the bedchamber to her left. As it thudded heavily back into its frame, she scooted her stool forward in order to peep through the thin gap of her own door into the bedroom beyond. A sly grin curved her face as she watched Melkor approach the tremendous bed and lean forward to deposit Mairon on the quilted coverlet.

        One eye on her sewing, one on the unfolding scene in the bed chamber, Rat congratulated herself for remembering to refill the wine pitchers on both sides of the bed as she settled down to enjoy the show.

        Mairon moaned softly, desolate when Melkor deposited him on the foot of their sumptuous bed. He reached out to try to keep flesh contacting flesh – for it physically hurt when the Master withdrew from him. Melkor impatiently tore his tunic over his head, as Mairon pushed himself up to lay splayed hands on the Master’s flat belly. Sliding his palms over cool gray skin, the Maia buried his face against the Vala’s muscled abdomen as Melkor slid his thumbs under the leather lacings holding his breeches closed. Snapping them with impatient force, he jerked the tight leather down hard enough to tear seams.

        Mairon felt Melkor’s erect length pop free, pressing between the Maia’s clavicles and against his extended throat. He pulled back long enough to utter a soft creel of delight. Pressing his cheek to the cool width, he wrapped one hand around the prodigious girth to hold it still.

        Eager lips opened over the darkening tip; Mairon gave a low moan deep in his throat and enclosed both hands around the Master’s prodigious erection. Above him, Melkor inhaled a slow, rumbling breath. Mairon smiled around the Vala’s cock and let his tongue tease the little slit, drawing out a pearly bead of lubricant.

        Mairon let his fingers wander – teasing the pulsing blue veins with delicate touches before tracing down to find Melkor’s heavy sac. Cupping the Vala’s balls, Mairon rolled them gently, one at a time, before lowering his lips to kiss, and lick. His head filled with Melkor’s distinctive scent – an acidic hint of cold ash mingled with rich, dark musk. Dizzied, drunken, Mairon buried his face in soft, crinkled flesh. He lathed up the rough textured skin with reverent lashes of his tongue before sucking one of the oblong spheres into his mouth. Running his teeth lightly across it, he gave another inaudible moan.

        Strong, sinewy fingers wrapped in copper hair, and Melkor’s fingertips stroked along Mairon’s scalp. The Master guided Mairon’s head up from his balls, positioning him over the dark tip of a quivering cock. Marion opened his mouth and let his eyes drift shut. As the heavy weight settled on his tongue, the Maia moaned and wiggled closer. Working the knobbed bulb with enthusiasm, he sucked at first, hollowing his cheeks with each long draw. Then he lifted himself into position, pushing down until Melkor’s cock hit the back of his throat. Now gentle teeth scraped down then up to let the bulb pop almost completely free. Above him, the Vala shuddered and drew a deep, unsteady breath.

        Mairon began in earnest then, lathing his tongue over the silken dome to find the small nub where tip became shaft; dancing his fingertips up the blue veined ridges then down to continue messaging swelling balls. When Melkor gasped above him, a bare breath of sound, Mairon pressed until the huge knob hit the back of his throat, propelling determinedly onward until it popped totally in. Gagging, he pulled back and did it again. And again.

        Unconscious tears welled in his eyes, from the pressure, from the intermittent choking of his breath, but he drew Melkor in a little at a time. Loosening his throat muscles, the Maia took more, and more, until his wet lips glided smoothly over top and shaft alike. The coiling spiral of heat in his belly wound tighter, nearly erupting into pure flame, as he took the Master deep inside and heard Melkor’s unsteady breath became a thrumming rumble.

        Barely aware of shimmering tears slipping down his cheeks, or the dark flush that emphasized a spattering of freckles along golden skin, Mairon began a quickening rhythm. Copper topped head bobbed in building cadence, and the Maiar hummed a silent song of pleasure in time to his own motion. The deep vibration brought an echoing pulse in the rise and fall of Melkor’s wide chest.

        Mairon could not suppress an exultant shudder, a satisfied chuckle tried to find its way out. He wrapped his fingers around Melkor’s hips when he felt the tell-tale, violent twitch jerk the Master’s whole body. He choked when Melkor began to move, compulsively thrusting deep down the receptive length of Mairon’s open throat. Soon, Mairon thought, very soon. He braced himself with his grip on flexing hips, letting Melkor set their pace.

        He messaged his palms over strong hipbones, encouraging the Master’s every fast glide. No matter that he sometimes gagged and tears flowed harder. Melkor was so close to release and Mairon’s own orgasm hovered just beyond that approaching explosion. The Vala heaved his hips, pulling Mairon down hard until spit-slicked lips brushed the cluster of black curls at the base of that huge cock, trapping the Maia’s choked moan inside his chest. He felt the tip of Melkor’s cock expand, knew very well what the spasm traveling up its length meant, and a triumphant snort broke from his nose as Melkor’s fingers knotted in his hair. But the Vala heard it not at all as a tremendous shudder ripped through him.

        Mairon gave a low, muted groan of his own as Melkor’s cock pulsed in the heat of his waiting lips. Thick semen erupted into his throat, welling up in a flood to fill his mouth where Melkor’s cock didn’t. It backed into his nose, oozed out his lips, and he swallowed hard even as a great convulsion wracked his own body. Heat pounded out into twitching limbs, and Mairon came just as violently. Tremors shook up his straining thighs in long waves. His hips jerked in reaction as pearly spurts pulsed from his own untouched erection. He drove his head harder down onto Melkor’s length in an unconscious attempt to coax more come from Melkor’s cock.

        Melkor exclaimed suddenly, his hoarse groan rasping across Mairon’s nerves. The Maia whimpered when the Master pulled back and out. But that unhappy whimper changed tone, becoming a little noise of anticipation when Mairon found himself lifted as if he weighed nothing at all. Melkor tossed him further onto the bed and came down over him.

        Hungry lips latched onto his, and the Master drank the taste of his own orgasm off Mairon’s tongue. Mairon bucked hard when Melkor engulfed his spent, sensitive cock in one huge hand. He twisted, writhing beneath the Vala’s heavy body, as Melkor stroked him into a whining, mewling paroxysm. When the Master abandoned his erection to plunge long fingers between the cleft in his ass, Mairon arched back. Head tossing, long red hair slithering over the bedclothes, Mairon latched his arms over both Melkor’s muscled shoulders, hanging on with all his strength.

        Melkor swept a hand up his own cock, taking the very last of his come to lubricate his fingers. This time when he invaded the hot crevasse, he penetrated the Maia below him with a full, slow thrust. Claiming the tight channel completely, he paused a moment. Mairon hissed out a breath between clenched teeth as harsh, cold breath whispered in his ear, urging him to relax. He did, and the initial sting faded into a sense of intense, aching fulfillment. Melkor withdrew slowly, and Mairon moaned musically deep in his chest. The Master thrust back in, and Mairon lifted his hips, levering himself up by planting his feet flat on the bed either side of Melkor’s hips. This eased the way, and soon Melkor plundered him smoothly. Adding a second finger, then a third, Melkor made sure to tease each stroke over the sensitive gland an inch or two within Mairon’s body. When he crooked his fingers, applying a steady caress to the spot, Mairon nearly levitated off the bed.

        “ Ah, yes, now you’re ready,” Melkor husked, pulling his fingers free. Mairon mewed in frustration as the Master withdrew, then a desolate gasp when he felt the Master’s solid weight lift off him.

        “ Oh, no,” Mairon cried, “ Please,”

        “ Hush, little one, we need more than a drop of come,” Melkor stopped in the act of levering himself onto his side. He leaned down, a hint of smile pulling at his lips, brushing a kiss in cool benediction over Mairon’s forehead, “ Be still.”

        “ Master,” Mairon breathed out a thin whisper, “ Please,”

 

        Rat froze on her stool. Needle still in her mouth, her little face went pale and stark. When making the bed, she’d heard a ceramic pot hit the floor and roll…somewhere. She knew what it was, and where it went….but she’d been struggling with the embroidered coverlet – a heavy sea of silk and velvet sewn by her own hand – and forgotten to hunt for the source of the quiet noise. She’d been so triumphant, and breathless, afterward. She spat one needle into the green silk occupying her lap as she jabbed her working needle into the fabric. Flipping the rich green over onto itself, she dropped it into the nearest open trunk. Shifting fana in a panic, her rodent form tumbled to the floor.

        Squeezing through the door crack, tiny paws working madly, she darted across the dangerous length of floor. Black eyes wild, Rat was very aware that the Master rolled over and sat up on the edge of the vast four poster bed. As Melkor opened the standing cabinet, Rat spotted her objective. Under the bed, near the foot, and she ran full tilt for it. Wheezes of panic whispered out of a tiny snout as she scurried under the vast bed. Both paws extended, she rolled it out of shadow close by the Vala’s heel, and with last great push let it go. Huddling now, a small as possible, she froze in place.

 

        Mairon half rolled onto his side, watching Melkor as he hunted in the bedside cabinet. He reached out to trail his fingers over the sleek muscles of the Vala’s closest arm. When he heard the Master flicking aside delicate glass bottles and ceramic pots, with growing irritation, Mairon pushed himself up on an elbow.

        “ I don’t think it went back in there…” He started uncertainly when he saw the Master’s head jerk.

        Quicker than even a Maia’s eye could follow, Melkor snatched something from the carpeted floor, slid onto one knee, and thrust his arm beneath the bed. Mairon drew a sharp breath, holding it, as he realized that the Master held Rat swinging from the tip of her tail. With his other hand, he tossed the green ceramic pot of lubricant onto the coverlet.

        Mairon breathed out slowly. He reached for the little pot, unscrewing its lid as Melkor came off his knee and returned to his sitting position on the bed. The Vala raised the other Umaiar until both sets of black eyes were on a level. The Master’s glinted with an irritated crimson glow and the moment Rat saw it, she squeezed her own eyes shut.

        “ My Lord,” Mairon breathed out, “ Please,”

        Melkor’s attention diverted and Mairon felt the Vala’s cold, red stare pass right through him. The Maia stared back, eyes wide and lips parted, for a long moment. So much power poised there, in-check behind frigid scarlet eyes, held him mesmerized and breathless. Mairon very slowly held out the pot, tipping its open mouth to Melkor. He unconsciously licked at his swollen, tender mouth as his amber gaze dropped to the Master’s lips.

        “ Please,” Mairon whispered again.

        Melkor flicked his hand, a sharp and automatic motion, sending Rat whipping into the darkness beyond the light provided by a single glow globe. Bioluminescent spores emitted pale, pearly light in a soft radius from inside a beautifully grown crystal. The dim light was a concession to Mairon, for Melkor needed it not at all.

        As Melkor pushed himself back onto the bed, he said, “ I want to see him in that green silk,” in the direction of where he’d snapped Rat, “ At the next meal.” Then to Mairon, as he stretched himself out at the Maia’s side, “ It will suit you better than Nessa,” As one large hand moved out to trail down Mairon’s throat. “ Kementari’s Maiar have improved their skill since last I acquired a sample of their weaving.”

        And Mairon knew this meant intercepted a gift between two Valier and stolen it – for he’d been on the other side of the situation. Listening to unlucky siblings explain to Aule why there was no ale from Orome’s Halls, or confess to Yavanna why her gifts would never reach her sisters. And he’d known the deprivations of such thefts – though the loss of wines and ales hadn’t troubled him; he’d hated wearing the same homespun cloth until it frayed and shredded. Silk had only adorned his back when he’d performed in festivals.

        “ She moves like Nahar,” Mairon murmured, “ When he’s caught a pebble,”

        Melkor twitched, and a breath of laughter escaped him. “ Truly.” With a soft snort, “ A Grace much exaggerated,”

        Mindful of the little pot, Mairon rolled up and settled on Melkor’s knees. Scooping a dollop of the clear, scentless lubricant on his fingertip, he took the Master’s semi-erect shaft in his other hand. After shaking the long length of his thick copper hair back behind his shoulders, Mairon solemnly began anointing the top of Melkor’s prodigious cock. Swirling his careful fingers down the hood and then the vein-ridged skin below, the Maia hummed very softly to himself. A satisfied curve played his lips as he watched the marble shaft begin again to engorge.

        “ Ah, there, m’lord,” Mairon crooned, sang, “ Might Arising,” he peeked up to give Melkor a seductive glance from beneath copper brows.

        Which made the Master chuckle again, “ What have you found, my bright spark?” Melkor asked with husky laughter lacing his deep rumble.

        “ A battering ram,” Mairon sang, “ It seems,” He used both hands, rubbing his slick fingers from base to tip in a long, slow stroke. Mairon squeaked as he suddenly found himself bucked off the Master’s knees. A long muscular arm snapped around his shoulders and rapidly slapped his back against the coverlet. Melkor loomed over him, and the Maia hurried to adjust his legs to make room for the Vala’s hips.

        The Master slipped a hand under Mairon, strong fingers reclaiming the hot cleft between his buttocks. Teasing fingertips found the muscled ring and swirled without penetrating. Mairon gasped, and arched, moaning aloud as passion rekindled in a sudden liquid flash; spearing out of his clenched stomach to the tips of his toes, pressing like an explosion against the inside of his skull.

        He floundered clumsily for a moment, struggling to pull his heels beneath him once more. Melkor snarled under his breath, reaching between them to jerk black leather trousers halfway down his thighs before his hand swept up and fisted in Mairon’s linen kilt. He tore the pale garment off in a single wrench; its thin ties snapped with a shrill little whisper as the linen rasped a protest. Melkor abandoned the narrow strip of cloth in the same fierce gesture.

        Mairon’s body jerked with the motion. He hissed as the strapping dug in for a painful moment before giving way. A moment later, Melkor captured his mouth, parting swollen lips with the edges of sharp teeth. The Maia caught at his Master’s shoulder with one elegant hand. Long finger found flexing muscles and traced their strong, supple lines up to the extended tendons in Melkor’s throat before spearing into heavy black hair. Shining black strands wrapped themselves willfully around the Maia’s dexterous fingers, trapping his hand.

        “ My little one,” Melkor growled into Mairon’s mouth. “ Warm for me.”

        Mairon choked back a deep-throated groan, shuddering, as his free hand unconsciously groped for Melkor’s erect cock. Finding its slick length, the Maia gave another suppressed, guttural burst as he wrapped it in the heat of his fist. Melkor growled, his entire massive body vibrating with its force, as he possessed Mairon’s mouth with deep sweeps of his invading tongue. He pulled back to bite the swollen lower lip and rake his teeth from its tender swell before sucking the thinner upper lip between his own. Working the swelling curve greedily, the Vala pulled Mairon into the exact position he desired. Running cool fingertips over the jut of one hipbone, then into the sensitive crease where torso met leg, Melkor caressed his slow way back to Mairon’s prepared entry.

        Below him, the smaller Ainu writhed and arched in a frustrated dance until he felt Melkor’s fingers stroke the lubricated ring of muscle. Unsuccessfully muting a frenetic whimper, Mairon’s fist pumped harder over Melkor’s silken shaft. The Master teased with slow strokes, dragging sinewy fingers repeatedly over tender flesh, occasionally dipping a fingertip as if to penetrate only to slide away.

        “ Bring me home,” Melkor hissed into Mairon’s mouth. “ My Thû,”

        Mairon inhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open to reveal iridescent flickers of yellow, amber, and red. For a moment, that fiery gaze searched Melkor’s obsidian stare. Mairon held that puissant intensity, steadily staring into immense power held back by an even stronger Will. He kept their eyes locked as he found the huge, knobbed top of Melkor’s throbbing erection and guided it down. Melkor’s strong hand closed loose around his wrist. Mairon nestled the slick tip against his flexing entry, and he writhed slowly, sensually against the prodigious shaft cradled between his cheeks.

        Mairon moaned into Melkor’s mouth, pulling back a fraction to rasp softly, “ Storm this gate, m’lord,” He mouthed Melkor’s lower lip, pulling gently at the strong curve.

        “ No,” Melkor spoke almost without noise, “ Bring me home.”

        Eyes still locked, Mairon pressed the slick tip into himself - inhaling violently. Muscle stretched, tissue expanded, Mairon bit back a cry that was mingled pleasure and pain. The momentary sting widened his eyes but still his flaming stare held Melkor’s black gaze. Swollen lips parted to allow a tiny mewl to escape as the knobbed top finally popped inside him. Now Mairon gave a thick, satisfied moan and his eyelids tried to flicker shut.

        “ Master,” the Maia sang beneath his breath, “ Master,” as he flexed slowly, pushing down to take more of Melkor’s huge length. “ O, my Master,” He struggled to keep Melkor’s gaze, his own eyes flaring with brighter heat, as he kept steady pressure until Melkor was slowly, fully sheathed within him. The Maia breathed, “ Yes. Deep,” hummed, “ Good, _deep_ ,” A rolling wave of intense heat lifted off Mairon’s golden flesh, making the Vala’s dark hair ripple and flutter around broad shoulders.

        Melkor gave a deep rumble, eyes narrowing to scarlet slits beneath arched black brows. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on Mairon’s as the Maia began to shift, and rock his hips. Internal muscles clenched impossibly tight before pushing against the thick length buried inside. Mairon writhed slowly, his flickering stare still locked to Melkor’s, As another hot wave burst off Mairon’s sweat slicked golden skin, the Vala’s lips parted in a low gasp,

        “ Yes, little one,” Melkor rasped, “ Dance for me, soon I shall have you singing…igniting…” He shifted his grip from Mairon’s wrist to one of the Maia’s flexing cheeks, fingers digging into message taut muscles. Mairon’s hand clumsily found the back of Melkor’s thigh and his spastic fingers clenched in rucked black leather.

        Mairon tipped his head to lick the hoarse whisper off Melkor’s lips. The Maia’s heavy lids finally surrendered, fluttering shut, to hide the flaming hues – yellow, white, palest blue – flickering within wild eyes. He moved in quickening rhythm, lean hips flexing with each internal shift until he rode Melkor’s cock with his eyelids squeezed tight and his swollen lips agape. Mairon struggled for breath, each whistling gasp ripping out of pent lungs. Beneath dark gold skin, faint threads of light began to chase themselves behind glinting flaxen freckles. Slithering rivulets of amber, yellow and pale blue flowed along flexing muscles, and released ripple after ripple of simmering heat.

        Melkor jerked Mairon tighter against him and lowered his head to taste Mairon’s throat with voracious lips. “ Yes, good,” He praised in a rumble so deep it manifested as a subharmonic wave, “ Heat,” The bed vibrated beneath them to each little word. “ Heat, my Thû,” He lathed extended tendons up to the line of Mairon’s clenched jaw, then ghosted cool lips along the upswept curve of the Maia’s ear. Mairon shuddered convulsively, his shoulders twisting into the rumpled coverlet. His hips arched uncontrollably and swollen lips twisted around desperate, panting breaths.

        A tremor shook through him. His aching cock throbbed as each movement ground him between Melkor’s belly and his own. Violent pulses ached in the pit of his stomach, and such a burning spiral coiled tight at the base of his swollen balls. A thin, low keen escaped Mairon’s throat as intense waves of heat redoubled, fanning Melkor’s long dark mane out in a living shadow. Lifting and shimmering as it floated on smoldering air.

        “ Good,” the bed vibrated beneath them again, “ Tight, hot, tiny….Maia…” Melkor mouthed soundlessly into Mairon’s ear, “ My Maia,”

        Mairon arched back in a convulsive spasm, and Melkor bucked his hips sharply forward, piercing through Mairon’s rhythm. Subverting the cadence, he drove his cock in the fraction deeper it could penetrate, then pulled back to drive himself home again, and again. Mairon choked, his lungs seizing, and flame burst out amid the tangles of copper hair slithering over the coverlet. Blind, wild eyes opened to reveal blazing, sparking yellow.

        “ Master,” Mairon sang out on a strangled note, “ My Lord,” he sobbed.

        // Come, little one, // Melkor commanded silently in the depths of Mairon’s passion addled mind, // Come for me!//

        Mairon whined between clenched teeth, his eyes squeezing shut, as the spiral snapped, and rebounded and liquid heat pulsed up from the roots of his balls. Short spurts of thick white ejaculate pulsed out of him, wrenched in spastic bursts from deep inside. A spasm knocked his legs out from under him, and Melkor hefted him closer, harder against rocking hips. As each thrust ground the Master’s cock against the tiny, hypersensitive gland within him, Mairon wailed out a long undulating song of ecstasy. Snatching at shallow breaths, he sounded repeatedly.

        Melkor snarled wordless encouragement against Mairon’s convulsing, extended throat. The Vala sank his teeth into quivering tendons, sucked hard enough at searing golden skin to leave a bruised welt. Hips driving forward, he came with a muted roar that shook not only the bed but also the obsidian walls of the bedchamber. Mairon’s copper locks flared with waves of flame. A flash of scorching heat whooshed off slick, golden flesh. Melkor convulsed with a guttural growl, absorbing the rushing conflagration as he buried himself to the hilt in Mairon’s quivering body and his balls pumped dry.

 

        Rat chose this moment of wild noise, and assured preoccupation, to slip from the back room. She darted madly through shadow to the bedroom door. Now in humanoid fana, one arm clutched the unfinished green silk tunic. The other arm, it’s shoulder dislocated, she had tucked in a sling made from the tunic’s matching sash, and the soft thud of the heavy door shutting after her… she skillfully timed to match the bed’s final, rocking thump.

 

        Mairon heaved against the coverlet, immobilized by Melkor’s full weight. The Vala, too, sought after heavy breaths, and now he radiated a pleasant warmth. The breath rasping past Mairon’s ear was not quite hot, and the Maia nuzzled Melkor’s temple, emitting a thready purr. One hand clung weakly to the remnants of Melkor’s leather breeches while the other remained entangled and trapped by what had become a thick cord of the Vala’s long black hair. He realized he could no longer feel his fingers and tried, not very successfully, to twitch them.

        “ Master,” He murmured, in a voice hoarse and barely audible. He tried again to move his fingers, and then shift his hand, only to feel the thick jet strands tighten as if they composed some living vine. He dragged the tip of his tongue over stinging distended lips, “ M’lord,”

        Melkor gave a little grunt against Mairon’s jaw. He twitched his head, with a soft growl, and the choking chord of hair simply dropped limp, permitting Mairon to stroke fingertips he could not feel against Melkor’s scalp, and skull. He ignored the sudden building burn of pins and needles as blood rushed back first into his wrist, then hand, then onward.

        He lay humming a low, repetitive drone as he messaged the Master’s head and nuzzling into his temple. Sensation slowly returned to his hand. Melkor lay heavy and content in the Maia’s loose embrace, temporarily succumbing to the restraints imposed by mortal flesh. When Mairon was able, he tightened his hold in the bunched folds of leather riding low on the Vala’s thighs. Melkor abruptly drew a deep breath and suddenly pushed his muscular bulk off Mairon’s lither, slender body.

        “ Oh no,” Mairon whispered in protest, not daring to tighten his hold.

        “ Hmmm, crush you,” Melkor muttered, “ C’mere, precious,” as he shifted onto his side he enclosed Mairon in one long arm, pulling the Maia against his shoulder. Mairon smiled, languidly to himself, and draped his arm over Melkor’s where it crossed up to curl over a smooth, freckled shoulder.

        “ Let me ease you, Master,” Mairon offered in a lazy croon as he stroked his fingertips over the back of Melkor’s hands, repeatedly caressing flexed knuckles and prominent tendons. Lacking some of his usual grace, Mairon dropped his hand to find what had been a fine pair of leather breeches. A wobbling press of Will and a single fingertip ran over the wrinkled fabric. The leather smoked and parted easily, the scent of burnt hide rose in the air. When the Maia shifted to sit up, Melkor’s hand slipped away to permit it.

        A satisfied curve to his swollen lips, Mairon trailed his finger down the outsides of both Melkor’s legs. He hummed, now musically, as he cut the Vala loose from the ruined, impinging garment and tossed the front half carelessly off the bed. “ There,” Mairon sang in satisfaction, “ Better.” He settled against Melkor’s shoulder again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the politics and plot with the porn but I really can't help it.


	3. Chapter Three - Broken Pikes and Personal Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Utumno isn't a particularly friendly place to inhabit and opportunities don't drip from stalactites, so grab one if you see it. The Master is still procrastinating, but Mairon is not complaining.

         “ I’ll have you, little bitch!”  The Herald’s voice, thick and just slurred, rang at one end of the massive, obsidian throne room.  The curved blades adorning his long pike slashed along stone, shedding white sparks, and Rat danced back.  It sent a ripping jar through her shoulder and she snarled silently at the sudden jolt of pain.  Two Balrog, just taking their position as the guard shift rotated, watched in disinterest - laced by faint amusement.

         Baring needle-sharp fangs, Rat kept her free hand tight on the bundle she had tucked into her makeshift sling.  Black eyes darting to and fro, she watched Langon line up again, both razor-edged adunc blades turned towards her.  In her mind, racing amid so many thoughts, was the sure knowledge that a dislocated shoulder would be the least of her worries should her blood mar prized green silk.  As Langon slashed left, she hopped back and left, keeping ahead of his arcing pike.  Another rain of sparks skittered brightly over the black stone floor.

         Obviously, the fire whiskey no longer contented him with merely trying to stomp her while in her smaller fana.  “ How now, vermin,” Langon spat, swinging his pike around again, “ Stand still!”

         Rat shrilled at him from behind tiny, bared fangs.  The ultrasonic squeal even made the Balrogs wince and mutter in displeasure.  The Herald dropped back a step, his weapon swinging off track for a moment, to gave his head one sharp, clearing shake.  “ You little – stand before your betters!”  He snarled furiously.  Rat lifted her chin in a contemptuous jerk, spitting out another high, furious shrill.

         Until Mairon Aulëndil’s arrival, Langon and the Balrog had stood in equal Rank as the Master’s most powerful, and trusted, servants.  Neither the Herald nor Lord Lungorthin were much pleased by their sudden diminishment.  Many a small Umaiar - of which Rat was merely one – had watched the shift in Favor with wondering eyes.  But Rat had been lucky enough to be in the right place, at the right time.  With a goblet of cool water and later a brimming bathtub, she had improved her situation.  Speedy skill with a needle, and a good hand at fancy stitches, had secured a new place.  She would go North, and she would not let this bell-voiced bastard prevent it.  Rat gave another ultrasonic squeal, she’d be ripped from her fana and never corporate again before she’d lose what she had earned.

         Langon erupted, howling several puissant curses, and his malignant Will joined the double hooked pike in its next wild slash.  Rage clawed at her, fury pushed down on her, wrapping around her ankles to hold her to one spot.  Shadowy tendrils entangled her legs, burning like acid against bare flesh.  Hindered by the precious silk in her sling, she could not shift fana.  Horrified black eyes followed the arc of Langon’s sweeping pike - coming to cut her legs out from under her, and she knew she could not escape.  The Herald’s drunken wrath hobbled her as effectively as iron manacles.

         Rat hunched over the silk protectively, her dislocated shoulder screaming a protest, and cringed against the coming blow.  Head down, eyes unconsciously squeezing closed, she gave a violent twitch at the sound of metal screeching against metal rather than sighing blades slicing agony across her calves.  Black eyes snapped open, and she stared uncomprehendingly at a huge wall of flame and ash, of rippling burning muscle and spark dripping horns looming high above.  She blinked and her eyes flashed over to the massive doors.  The guards remained at their post.  Her eyes flashed back to the Balrog standing between herself and the Herald.  The fire demon’s giant, black headed axe pinned Langon’s pike to the obsidian floor.

         “ **What the fuck, Langon!?** ”  The Balrog demanded, “ **Have you gone mad?  What do you think you’re doing?** ”

         “ **Oh, he’s pissed off Kosomot,** ” The two Umaiar grinned at one another from their posts on either side of the massive obsidian and iron doors.

         “ **By the Master’s Balls,  I’d say he has.** ”

         “ **Explain yourself!** ” the Balrog officer demanded, “ **Our Lord metes out  - he will remind you of _that_ , himself, once I Report!**”

         “ Mind your own fucking concerns, you sparking bastard!” Langon yanked furiously on the end of his pike.  “ I’ll talk to Lungorthin!  You’ll be standing beyond the outside gates!  See how you hiss in the snow, your huge fucking hooves caught in sink-ice!  Give it back!”  Hauling furiously, “ Give it me, you great…fucking….stupid….”  Snarling, Langon wrenched at the iron bound pole, “ Give…it…me!”  The next time, he pulled so hard that the double bladed head jerked loose from its iron-bound staff.  Langon stumbled back an unsteady yard, the pole swinging free before him.

         Rat gaped in shocked wonder.  Her gaze darting up at the fire demon then down at the Herald.  The Balrog - Kosomot it seemed - tugged his axe from the floor in an easy motion.  As the curved blade lifted, a flat fragment, sheered during impact, dropped off the axehead in a metallic noisy _clang_ against the obsidian floor.  All three fire demons hissed as one, flaming yellow eyes suddenly glowing brighter.

         “ **Oh, that’s not right.** ”  One of the guards snapped at the other.

         “ **What the fuck!?** ”  The second snarled, “ **They said they fixed that!** ”

         “ **They didn’t fucking fix them!  They’re still too weak!** ”

         “ **None of their damn blades can withstand a decent blow!** ”

         “ **How’s this brittle slag supposed to stand us at arms?** ” The door guards complained bitterly back and forth.

         “ **Shut your gobs!** ” Kosomot snarled at them, “ **No chatter on Post!  Look lively, look sharp, and fucking _shut up_** _!_ ”

         Rat looked down at the legs still attached to her body just one more time, for assurance, then her ghostly face lifted.  Black eyes glistened with a shine that put the polished obsidian floor to shame.  A somewhat silly grin tugged at her thin grey lips before they slowly pulled back in an awkward grimace.  Unaccustomed to smiling, Rat wasn’t quite sure how one did it, for it felt very strange, but the desire was so strong she couldn’t stop herself.  The Balrog’s glance, intending to sweep over her and away, twitched to a halt.  His head recoiled.  The yellow flame in his eye flickered into a dull, smoldering orange.  “ **Be about your business.** ” In a voice tinged with confused revulsion. “ **Go on, git…** ”

         Rat’s black eyes darted pointedly to the huge, ferocious axe then she jerked her head toward the door. 

         High above her, the Balrog Officer’s confusion deepened, and a gentle rain of sooty orange flame skittered along his massive, sweeping horns.  A snarling grimace of distaste worked across stark angles and behind long black fangs.  Rat’s attention flashed to Langon, but the Herald was occupied: trying to kick his pike head free of the black stone floor.  Swearing under his breath, spewing drunken nonsense, he turned to slam his boot heel against it several times.

          Rat’s awkward grimace widened to reveal many more needle-like teeth.  She jerked her chin again in a strange spastic motion, once more indicating the huge doors behind the Balrog.

         “ **Shoo…** ”

         Rat rolled her eyes to herself, frustration suddenly tangible in her stance.  She gave an exasperated, ultrasonic shrill.  The three fire demons twitched and Langon shook his head with another snarl.

         “ **Ngh, stop that!  Shoo**!”

         Looking at the great axe that Kosomot held low in his massive, clawed fist, she gave another piercing ultrasonic burst.  Rat put her good hand on the green silk, holding it in place, as she stalked the distance necessary to kick the flat of her bare foot against the ruined axe head.  Then she bared many sharp teeth at him, this time in contempt. 

         “ _Idiot,_ ” Rat denounced.  Her throat wasn’t formed for speech, and her attempt crossed into the highest registers, making the three Balrog and Langon all flinch again.  Rat made a gesture of disdainful derision, unconsciously imitating the one she saw most often.

         “ **O-ho!** ”  One of the fire demons standing on guard whispered to the other at the frustrated outburst.

         Kosomot recognized the distinctive gesture, for he’d recently seen it directed at his Commander in this very throne room.  Lungorthin had nearly conflagrated on the spot as Melkor dismissed him with that scornful flick of ashen fingers.  His searing yellow eyes narrowed abruptly.

          “ I told you – she’s a little bitch,” Langon paused a moment, to add nonsensically.

         Rat kept her hand protectively over the bundle of green silk, to keep off the fine dusting of ash that sifted down from the Balrog’s pair of jutting horns and off their massive black shoulders.  She scurried around a scorching hoof and headed out the tremendous, ironbound, doors in her usual, unnaturally quick step. 

         “ **And there she goes,** ”

         Still shaking her dark, slick head to herself, she scuttled into the torch-lit tunnel.  First, the common rooms, to call in favors owed and then the bonesetters –  for her dislocated shoulder truly throbbed and ached.  Rat lowered her head for a moment, tiny teeth nibbling at the bump four inches lower than it should be.  It was comforting, and she continued to nibble, off and on, as she skulked her way tight along the tunnel walls.

 

 

         Mairon drowsed for some time.  Tucked into the Vala’s side, one leg tossed over Melkor’s hip and thigh, he woke to feel that the Master had cooled off.   Tawny eyes focused lazily on that pale grey face, taking great satisfaction in the unusual sight of strongly hewn features relaxed in deep slumber.  So very lightly, the Maia traced his fingertips over the cool expanse of Melkor’s chest.  He circled above the flat coins of dark nipples, and the indent of a broad sternum between wide pectorals.

         Truly magnificent, Mairon admired as one fingertip wandered up to dip into the indentation at the base of Melkor’s broad throat.  He unconsciously licked at his lips, still swollen and so tender, from harsh kisses…and stretching wide around the Vala’s huge erection.  Tongue probing his lower lip, he simultaneously probed into his body to explore the Compulsion Melkor had lain within him… Mairon grinned just a bit to himself.  Compulsion could go both ways, and he intended to assure that it did. 

         When he departed Utumno to take control of the new foundry – for such had been the Vala’s sworn promise – for a moment he exulted in the notion of his own forges, run to his standards and specifications, to do with as _he_ wished!  No Aulë or interfering siblings to hamper him, to curtail his research or hobble his experiments - how much could he accomplish once that autonomy, that **_freedom_** , lay within his grasp!  Those pathetic lamps….even the very underpinnings of Arda…would pale in comparison to the works his hand, and his mind, would send forth in Melkor’s Name. 

         When eventually the Vala saw fit to let him go, Mairon would assure that Melkor would miss him.  Yearn for the comforts of his presence, and the intense heat he ardently offered and Melkor so passionately absorbed each time they lay together.  The Maia intended to ensure that his Master did not forget; neither would his strong Favor wane despite so many frozen leagues separating them.  Mairon would tangibly justify the trust placed in him with those weapons and war machines Melkor wished him to produce up in distant, icebound hills.

         “ How now, little one,” Melkor rasped in a thick, languid whisper.

         Mairon’s eyes returned from their inward focus.  Still glowing triumphant amber, he jerked his gaze up to the Vala’s.  Obsidian eyes held a lambent golden glow, and Mairon stared for a moment, the tip of his tongue unwittingly moistening his inflamed lower lip again.

         “ You look much pleased, precious,” Melkor observed in rich, dark satisfaction.

         “ Oh, yes, m’lord.”  Mairon crooned, “ Here,”  He pushed himself up and turned to the bedside cabinet where a brimming pitcher and matching gold-chased silver goblet waited.  Rat had made sure to bring the very best of Oromë ’s stolen wine and Mairon filled the goblet high with ruby-toned, fragrant liquid.  He carefully lifted the cup and brought it round, “ You sound dry, Master, sip this.”

         “ Hm,” Melkor’s lips curled in a little smirk as he lifted his head.  He didn’t take the chalice, content to let Mairon keep his hold on it, as he look a long draw, and then another.  “ Good.”

         Mairon laughed softly.  With his amber eyes still clinging to Melkor’s jet-black gaze, the Maia took a sip for himself, then another.  The sweet-sour tang of the wine – cool and fruity – tasted much better than it ever had before.  Mairon took a third sip to savor against his tongue as he lowered the goblet again.

         “ More?”

         “ Hmm,” this time the Vala put a fingertip against the bottom of the stemmed base to tip it at a deeper angle.  Melkor drained the deep goblet in one go.

         “ More?” Mairon asked again as he lowered the empty cup.

         " No.” Melkor’s eyes drifted closed.

         The Maia abandoned the chalice on the table, turning back to nestle his head against Melkor’s shoulder again.  “ Master?”

         “ Hm?”

         “ I have finished your surprise.”

         “ Ah, this is welcome news.” Melkor hummed softly, “ What have you made me, little one?”

         Mairon laughed softly into marble grey flesh, “ Ah – not so easy as _that_ , m’lord.” He teased, “ You must come to the forge you so graciously gave me…for a final fitting.”

         “ A fitting?” Melkor pushed himself up on the pile of pillows, leaving Mairon to adjust his position, but rather than lay his head back down on the Vala’s muscled shoulder, Mairon turned and wiggled so his chest rested against Melkor’s below.  Chin to chin; the Maia gave his lord a teasing glance.  “ And another pleased look….what have you made me, my Thû ?”

         “ No,” Mairon smiled to take any sting from the outright refusal, “ No, my lord, you must come down so I can cut the leather straps myself, to assure a perfect…and comfortable…fit.  A form can only do so much – unbending as it is.”

         Melkor’s arched black brows lifted, “ You’ve made a form of me?”

         “ Of course my lord.  But forms do not flex, and I must be sure the straps,” He trailed his fingertips over Melkor’s chest again, “ Are precisely the right flexibility and length….for your magnificent scope of reach.”

         “ Ah!” Melkor inhaled deeply, “ You’ve made me new arm-,”

         “ No,” Mairon dared to interrupt, lifting his wandering fingertip to touch the Vala’s lips lightly.  “ Say it naught.  Indulge me...I shall wear the green silk, and you will wear _my_ gift to _you_. _”_

         “ What does it look like – tell me,” Melkor commanded.

         “ No.” Mairon gauged the Vala’s reaction.  Melkor’s brows lifted slightly, but he did not seem displeased by the refusal.  “ I _could_ not.”  He rose up now, bent knees framing Melkor’s muscled flanks, to sit on the Vala’s flat abdomen.  He shook his head, letting long copper locks fall around his shoulders.  “ I could not possibly do it justice.  It is the finest work I have ever done.” Born completely from his own mind, without the influence or opinion of any other, “ You must look upon it yourself.  You must let me fit you, my lord.  Please, come to my forge?”

         “ Come here, my clever one,” Melkor took Mairon’s nape in his strong hand and pulled the Maia down into a lingering kiss.  “ Of course,” He murmured between tastings, “ I will come to your forge,” Delving into Mairon’s mouth with deepening sweeps, “ And with great pleasure.”

         The Maia drank the last vestiges of wine from Melkor’s mouth, opening wider with each exploration.  Mairon shifted, moaning low in his throat as a coil of desire sparked back to life deep in his quivering belly.

         “ Master,” he whispered against demanding lips.  Melkor reached up and embraced Mairon with both arms before he suddenly levered himself up on a heel and put the smaller Ainu on the bed beneath him.  Mairon welcomed the heavy weight, parting his legs for Melkor to settle flush up against his pelvis.

         The Master claimed Mairon’s mouth again, invading, sweeping the Maia’s swollen lips apart to taste deeper and deeper.  After a quick dip in the pot of lubricant, one wide hand slipped beneath writhing hips and long fingers speared possessively between Mairon’s cheeks.  Melkor teased, in long repeating strokes, rekindling a bolt of piercing arousal.  The Maia exclaimed hoarsely into Melkor’s ravening kiss, pressing down to trap the Vala’s exploring fingers.  As he did, Melkor penetrated him with one fingertip.

         Mairon shrilled, winding his arm over Melkor’s neck to dig strong fingertips into one shoulder blade.  As Melkor slipped in up to the first knuckle, the Maia enclosed him with both lithe legs, locking tight around the Vala’s waist.  Melkor stroked lightly until he found that deliciously sensitive spot – and Mairon’s whole body convulsed in a wracking spasm.

         “ Ah.” Melkor sighed into Mairon’s seeking lips.

         The Maia wove the fingers of one hand into the Vala’s thick, black hair; uncaring that would entrap him.  Jet strands coiled in a strangling hold around Mairon’s wrist and up his forearm to the elbow.  A soft shimmer of warmth pooled on the bed, exuding from glistening golden skin.  When Melkor circled his fingertip over the already hypersensitive gland inside Mairon’s tight body, the Maia keened and strained up into their voracious kiss.

         He felt Melkor’s length hardening against his own, even as he too became achingly erect.  Mairon pleaded with his lips, and tongue: suckling at Melkor’s mouth and teething the Vala’s full lower lip before lathing it repeatedly with the hot tip of his tongue.

         // My tiny glutton,// Melkor exulted silently within the chaotic echoes of Mairon’s mind, // Come for me again…//

         And with only another few, quick, circling caresses – Mairon did.  He wailed into Melkor’s kiss, pulling the Vala harder against him, enveloping the Master’s muscular torso in a trembling, gasping cage of golden arms and legs.  Faint flickers of blue flame chased themselves through the Maia’s copper hair, and Melkor drank Mairon’s thin, mewling breaths as he weakened the edges of corporeal boundaries to absorb Mairon’s sudden burst of simmering heat. 

         // All of you, give me all of you,// The Vala encouraged silently, communicating mind-to-mind,  // Come, my tiny one!//

         Mairon sobbed harshly, jerking his head back in a spastic twist, hips rising and falling in a last few frantic pumps into Melkor’s supporting palm.  Weak muscles shivered, and he lay trembling in an exhausted, boneless sprawl.  Melkor slipped his supporting hand from under Mairon, smoothly sliding his finger free.  The Maia breathed out a little, incoherent moan of protest.  He hung limp around broad shoulders and his calves rested heavily over Melkor’s long flanks. 

         The Vala slowly unfolded his muscled frame, watching with deeply satisfied black eyes as Mairon’s long golden limbs fell heavily onto the bed…except for the arm that remained trapped by a thick, living coil of black hair.  Melkor made a disgruntled little noise, then a throaty growl when the living vine tightened abruptly.  He twitched his head, and the thick cord of his hair unwound.  Mairon’s limp hand dropped suddenly to the coverlet.  The Maia moaned out another tiny, breathy protest.  Melkor levered himself onto his side, pushing his back against a sea of pillows

         He scooped Mairon’s boneless body up against his own, looking down for a long, sober moment on the half-unconscious Maia.  He pulled Mairon up to his shoulder, tucking the smaller divinity tightly against him.  Melkor lifted one hand to stroke a light fingertip over the heated skin of Mairon’s cheek.

         “ Precious,” He murmured as his hand dropped  to his own breast.

         Melkor used the tip of a sharp nail, slicing a narrow gash above one flat nipple.  Thick, dark blood swelled in the cut. “ Drink, precious.”  The Vala whispered into Mairon’s ear, guiding his head. 

         Mairon dragged open heavy eyes, looking without comprehension, before lowering his swollen lips.  Enclosing the little wound, he lapped hesitantly at the sluggish flow.  A great shock rang through his limp body as dark blood covered his tongue.  Mairon clutched at Melkor’s ribs, pulling himself closer.   As the Maia swallowed, he felt the tiny mouthful sear its way down his throat in a cold so intense it seemed to burn him from the inside out.  Mewling, he struggled closer, sucked harder, but the small cut had already closed; leaving him to lathe repeatedly against perfect flesh.   Smears of color trailed behind closed eyelids.  When he tried to open his eyes, the dull flashes became luminescent shadows between his sight and the world beyond.  He struggled to make his unsteady limbs obey him, but could only twitch against Melkor’s chest.

         The Vala fisted his hand in the Maia’s tangled mane, pulling Mairon’s head back until he bared the elegant length of throat beneath him.  Mairon felt Melkor’s lips run along stretched tendons, and then he felt the edges of razor sharp teeth.  When Melkor bit, breaking skin above the big vein, Mairon bucked hard against Melkor’s inflexible embrace.

         He cried out, in pain and confusion, as he pushed weakly against the Master’s broad chest, but to no avail.  Melkor crooned against his throat, and spoke silently in his mind.  Soothing him, praising him, ordering him to relax, and he did – without any will of his own.  As his body fell limp, he felt the pulsing suck of Melkor’s mouth against his throat as if everything had slowed to a crawl.  Eyes open but sightless, lips agape but silent, Mairon hung suspended for a length of time he could not register.

         In reality, only a few moments passed.  Melkor drank small mouthfuls of the Maia’s boiling hot blood until the flesh healed itself just as the Vala’s had.  Lifting his head, mouth a crimson gash against gray skin, Melkor looked down into Mairon’s face. 

         Pupils blown wide open, muscles slack and slow in response, Mairon lay unresisting in Melkor’s arms.  Faint traces of blood smeared along his throat, and Melkor leaned down to lick them away.  Mairon moaned, hoarse and deep when he felt Melkor’s tongue moving against his extended tendons.  The Maia’s hips lifted in unconscious reaction.  His spent erection throbbed and stirred.

         “ I Gift you my strength, precious.  I Gift you my trust.  I Gift you with all that I am.” Melkor rumbled against Mairon’s throat, “ I Gift you my power, so none will doubt that you act in my Name.” 

         “ Master,” Mairon sang out, slurred and almost incoherent.

         “ I Gift you my rage to use against our enemies when they come for you.  And they _will_ come, my bright spark.” Melkor pulled back to stare down into Mairon’s dazed face.

         “ Yours,” Mairon croaked in a weak whisper, “ Always yours,”

         “ Yes, my Thû.  Grow in my Favor, and become what you are meant to be, what you were always meant to be.”  The Vala leaned down and pressed his lips to Mairon’s sweat dewed brow.  Then he rested his forehead on the Maia’s, staring soberly down at the Maia’s beautifully defined features.

         “ My Lord, always yours,” Mairon continued to sing, his voice a bare thread of sound.  “ Adore you, fear you, need you, now and ever.  _Please you_ …  Everything, you are everything and ever shall be,”

         “ I would have you again,” Melkor purred in a thick whisper.

         “ Yes, again,” Mairon slurred, “ Take me again,”

         “ I fear you’re too sore, little one.”

         “ I don’t care,” Mairon moaned, his head trying to twist from side to side, “ I don’t care!  Use me, fill me, fuck me, _my_ Lord,”

         Melkor rose on his knees as he lowered Mairon flat back onto the rumpled bedclothes.  Spreading golden limbs as best pleased him, Melkor splayed the smaller Ainu out like a sacrifice.  He ran light fingertips over the elaborate patterns of freckles that glowed like drops of molten gold along Mairon’s taut skin; fanned the long length of Mairon’s copper mane in a halo around the Maia’s giddy head.  Running his fingers along the backs of taut thighs, he pulled Mairon’s knees up as he settled between spread legs.

         Mairon heaved with thin pants, arching against the quilted coverlet.  His whole body tried to rise up to Melkor’s possessive caress.  When the Master came down over him, Mairon encased Melkor’s flanks with his calves, bent knees drawn up tight.  He moaned, lifting his hips to writhe in a slow sensual dance against the Vala’s prodigious, erect cock.

         Melkor let go a hoarse noise, part chuckle part growl, and caught Mairon’s mouth in a ravenous kiss.  As he ground himself down, letting their erect lengths parry to Mairon’s slow rhythm, he thrust one hand under Mairon’s ass.  Long fingers invaded the hot cleft, and a fingertip unerringly found the Maia’s muscled entry.

         Mairon rocked back, a powerful convulsion shuddering out to the tips of his fingers and toes.  Melkor stroked him, swirled blunt fingertips over the tight ring, and gave a teasing moment of pressure.

         “ Yes,” Mairon whimpered, “ Please, Master,”

         “ Let us see how sore you are, precious Thû,”  Melkor rasped, and this time, his fingertip deliberately penetrated up to the first knuckle.

         Mairon clutched into the bedding, his arms still spread wide in the position Melkor had set them.  He was so very tender, so very hypersensitive, from earlier.  It stung so very much, but it also felt gloriously _good_.  Biting his lower lip, Mairon stifled a shrill exultation deep in his throat.  It _hurt_ so good.

         “ O, please!” The Maia sobbed out.

         “ You beg so beautifully, little one,” Melkor muttered, “ I want to fall upon you and devour every last breath in your body.  I would rend you, consume you, keep you always in my bed and on my cock.  How long you made me wait,”

         “ I didn’t know…”  Mairon keened, “ I did not understand….”  He couldn’t stop himself from weak thrashing.  From twisting his shoulders into the bed he’d constructed; from bucking his body once between Melkor’s possessive hand and the weight of the Vala’s heavy hips. 

         “ No, and no, and no again,” Melkor growled against Mairon’s lips, “ How you defied me, how you wrought such a song of longing in me, how much you made me _want_ you!”  He bit at Mairon’s lower lip, sucked it swollen before claiming the Maia’s mouth with a lunging tongue.  Melkor speared the fingers of his free hand in Mairon’s tousled locks to hold him still.  And he stroked in and out of the Maia’s aching flesh below in time to the rhythm of his furious kiss.

         Mairon whimpered into Melkor’s mouth, trying with unsteady legs to pull the Vala harder against him.  Clawing restlessly into the coverlet, he adopted the mounting cadence until his body flowed against Melkor’s.  Accepting the rapid strokes of Melkor’s tongue and the sliding motion of his finger penetrating deeper each time, Mairon surrendered completely, overwhelmed by sensation.  Pain and pleasure flashed back and forth, merging until they were one in the same.

         Melkor pulled back abruptly.  His hot breath splattered unevenly across Mairon’s burning face, over swollen stinging lips and fluttering eyelashes.  The Vala trailed his lips down the line of Mairon’s taut jaw, moving lower run his tongue across the Maia’s clavicle before seeking one small, flat nipple.  Lipping the tiny nub, he teased it into a tight peak.  Mairon whimpered softly, lifting his chest weakly against Melkor’s mouth.  The Master used the edges of sharp teeth – nipping turgid flesh, making Mairon gasp and mewl, before he moved across to lathe the other small button into a hard point: sucking, teething, molding it in the heat of his mouth.

         “ My clever one,” Melkor breathed out as he lifted his head.

         “ My Lord,” Mairon responded on a thin breath.  He sought Melkor’s kiss, lifting his head the fraction it took to mouth against the Vala’s lips.  He creeled almost inaudibly and thrust down with his hips to force Melkor’s finger further up inside him.

         “ Wildfire,” Melkor rasped against Mairon’s lips, “ My Thû,”

         “ Please,” Mairon begged in an almost inaudible whimper.

         Melkor made a deep noise, half growl half moan, and withdrew his hand slowly.  He stroked Mairon’s balls lightly with the back of his fingers before finding his own throbbing erection and guiding it against hot, damp muscle.

         As he pressed, the Maia’s lips opened wide in a silent cry and copper brows jerked down over tightly squeezed lids.  Mairon’s shoulders wrenched back into the bedding.  His hands jerked open then twisted clumsily in the silk and velvet coverlet below him.  The Maia sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

         The Vala stopped, staring down into Mairon’s grimacing face.  “ Too much,” He rasped under his breath.

         “ _No_ ,” Mairon gasped, “ D…do it, take me, p…please!” he sobbed out. 

         “ Mairon,” so softly, Melkor sang the name, frowning.  The Maia’s hips tipped against Melkor’s huge cock to press his slick, flexing entry tighter against the swollen, knobbed top.  The smaller Ainu babbled in a thin whisper and awkwardly tried to impale himself.

         //… _please, m’lord_ …//

         Melkor shifted forward and pressed until he popped inside.  Mairon hissed again before he convulsed with a low, breathless wail.

         “ Ah, my Thû,” Melkor’s obsidian eyes drifted shut, “ I cannot deny you.”

         //….more…please… _all of you_ … _deep_ …//

         Mairon hissed, grimacing, as Melkor inched his prodigious erection into the Maia’s tight, hot channel.  The Vala stopped.  Mairon gave a guttural, grinding moan and bore down hard, eyes flying open and lips parting wide around a brief howl, as he drove Melkor almost completely inside.

         // Oh, yes, _deep!_ // Mairon exulted silently as his eyes fluttered shut once more.  He moaned and rocked his hips again, securing himself with a hand around Melkor’s shoulder as he took the Master’s cock in to its fat hilt.

         “ Foolish Maia,” Melkor rumbled out on a deep breath.

         // Fuck me,// Mairon rocked up again.  Two sharp pumps of his hips accompanied the spasm of projected thought, // Master – **move!** // 

         “ Bold,” Melkor hissed, obsidian eyes flaring in golden surprise.  He drew back and thrust home in one long, hard lunge.

         Mairon arched on a violent spasm, a full-throated cry wrenched from his chest.  The Vala reached up, driving his hand through the sea of pillows, to brace himself against the solid headboard with one wide palm.  As he began a pounding rhythm, Mairon tossed his head wildly back and forth.  Each ripping breath forced from him a burst of frantic encouragement.

         Climax exploded within Mairon first, locking hot breath within his body.  A conflagrating wave roiled off golden flesh, burning through the hanging bed drapes in writhing, crawling flecks of pre-flame.  Red and blue lights slithered and devoured the fabric without actually igniting.  The Maia gave a low, hoarse scream as his whole body convulsed up from the coverlet.

         Melkor joined him immediately, a fierce, deep exclamation making the bed and chamber walls shudder.  The Vala unconsciously absorbed Mairon’s expulsion of heat, as had become his habit.  Air whooshed and thumped around them, but neither heard nor felt it as the hanging bedclothes disintegrated into heavy black ash.  Melkor strained into Mairon’s embrace, sinking his teeth into the Maia’s shoulder in a sharp nip.  Mairon sounded one last time, a harsh little noise, before collapsing against the charred coverlet.

         Melkor heaved over the Maia’s smaller body, marble skin incandescent in the dim light.  He sucked the red mark left by his teeth for a moment, before lifting his head.  Looking into the Maia’s unconscious face, Melkor’s own features moved in indecision, wavering back and forth between indignation and realization.  He could not castigate; his Gift had stirred such audaciousness.  And Mairon would need all that Melkor had imparted.  Finally, the Vala drew himself off the Maia’s long, golden length, it was then that he noticed the thick, clumping layer of black ash scattered on the coverlet around them.

         Melkor’s lips parted in a spontaneous grin, and delighted black eyes scanned the ragged, ruined bed curtains.  “ Ha!”  Softly under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Everyone! Company arrives for a week, so it will be a bit before the next update. Very Sorry!
> 
> And this nonsense - Though I make no profit from and own no rights to these characters or this universe, this is an original composition produced by a single author and no one has permission to re-publish it, or parts of it. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to so many people on Tumblr - in order for this NOT to sound like an Oscar Speech, I'm just going to say: your patience with my long absences is greatly appreciated! Your inspiration and your companionship are invaluable.
> 
> The first Chapter of this story is published on Tumblr in Honor of Valinwhore's Birthday and so I dedicate this work to our marvelous Suz, ever talented and always gracious! Her art is an inspiration to Angbangers (and Kylux fans) worldwide. Her kindness and generosity make her one of those truly special people - the kind it's an honor to know.
> 
> To my general reading audience - I'm sorry about all the politics thrown into your smut, but I can't help it - it just worms its way in there.
> 
> Now the Oscar part - Jardindesetoiles, DragonofMordor/Philstar22, Samwise-po-tay-toe-gamgee & Murder Hubby Asgardian--Angels, Swilmarillion, LanceLottie, Littleawkpanda, Celeborn-of-Doriath, HazelnutShippingCo, Lae-Rae-the-spoony-bard, sleepingmirrors/comatosereflections, Valinwhore, maitimiel, heraldofmelkor for the information on Langon, Tolkien-in-Beleriand, Elfmaiddryope, and so many other wonderful fellow Tolkien Fans! (If I left you out, I'm sorry! Please, please, please come smack my fingers on Tumblr!)
> 
> Thank you for your time, and your patience, and for just being the great folks that you are.
> 
> \- musinshadw (Come visit me on Tumblr should you like!)


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